


Dragons Plant No Trees

by lyn452



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Mutual Pining, Political Marriage, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 12:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyn452/pseuds/lyn452
Summary: When Daenerys rejects Jon’s first romantic overture, he never tries again. So they battle the Night King together, but they are not together. After the war is won, Daenerys marries Jon for political reasons; Jon agrees to a “loveless” marriage.





	Dragons Plant No Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Hi. I don't know if you're taking prompts but i have one I would be happy to read from you. Where after the war is won Daenerys proposes marriage to Jon (they didn't have relationship before) to strengthen her claim to the throne and Jon agrees for the good of the realm. They have to have sex and in process they fall in love basically. And a lot of angst. 😄

 

 ****It had became a habit back in Essos, a ritual of sorts, and it had lasted through Dragonstone, through the War for the Dawn, through so much. Daenerys picked up her glass of Dornish red with a small smile on her face as well as the second glass. She handed it to Tyrion as they looked out at King’s Landing from the dragon terrace of the Red Keep. They couldn’t make out any people from this high up, but it comforted Daenerys to know they were out there, safe and living.

She had worked so long and so hard to get here. It didn’t even feel real some days that she could finally settle down and enjoy a home and ruling.

Tyrion was seated; he’d acquired a new battle scar on his leg to match the one across his face, but this injury rather than ruining what looks he had, made it difficult for the little man to stand for long periods of time. Daenerys made sure there was always a chair nearby for him, a gesture that Tyrion seemed to both appreciate and be annoyed with.

She sat next to him, looking out over the view of her city, waiting for Tyrion to speak. Sometimes they spoke of the kingdom, of current crises and possible solutions. Sometimes they spoke of the future, of impossible dreams they would somehow make reality. And sometimes their talks focused more on the personal, their families, their marriages, their pasts, their feelings.

Daenerys took a drink of the wine. She’d missed good wine during the War for the Dawn, as it was being called now. There had been no room for frivolities or luxuries, and she’d made due with northern ale (or that grape juice they called wine) and fouler concoctions made by the Dothraki and the Free Folk.

Tyrion had indulged far more than her in those offerings. So much so, that he had offered both groups tips to make their beverages taste better and found which brews were better than others. Though neither group had appreciated his suggestions for how to better to “turn their mead into southern swill water” as Tormund had said. The memory brought a smile to Daenerys’ face.

“What’s making you smile like that, your grace?” Tyrion asked.

“A happy memory, my lord,” Daenerys responded. She didn’t clarify and Tyrion didn’t ask. Happy memories weren’t in abundance for either of them. She continued to look out over King’s Landing, wondering if there was anything she could do to further help the orphans of the war. Perhaps she could take one in herself? If she was doomed to never give birth to an heir, perhaps that could solve her succession. She would have Missandei look into it.  

Before she could give voice to her thought, Tyrion said, “What are we planning to do about Aegon Targaryen?”

Daenerys was sick of this conversation. “Jon has said repeatedly that he’s not interested in the throne. He is no threat to us.”

“He’s a hero, and a man who was made king, he’s a threat.” Tyrion took a drink. “I would agree that Jon would never actively fight for the throne, not unless something pushed him to do it. But there are those who would do it in his name, against his wishes. Foolish to ignore that threat.”

Daenerys sighed, taking a sip of wine. She knew Tyrion wasn’t wrong, but she wouldn’t kill Jon for his blood and for the potential of future trouble. “I won’t kill him, Tyrion.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that.” He licked his lips and looked out into the far-off distance. “What if you married him?”

Daenerys whipped her head towards Tyrion, who was sporting a sly grin at her reaction. “What?”

“What if you married him?” Tyrion took a drink. “It solidifies your claim and ensures he can’t marry into another house and cause trouble.”

Daenerys set down her glass. “I thought you wanted him to continue the line, use him to build alliances and ensure the succession.”

“I don’t know that we could control those alliances. Jon is popular and famous now. Because of the war, everyone in Westeros knows his name. Before he was just the Bastard of Winterfell, but now...now he’s a threat. Marrying him contains and eliminates the threat he presents.”

Daenerys licked her lips. “Am I not famous? Am I not popular for my role in the war?”

Tyrion nodded. “Of course you are, my queen, but men like stories of heroes concerning other men. They like brave deeds of battle accomplished by sword rather than on dragonback. They will never ride a dragon, so they can never be you. But they can dream of being Jon Snow, a nobody who became somebody.”

Daenerys understood that. She knew that Tyrion was right. Jon’s story was one that anyone could relate to, hers was one that contained more awe and less reliability. “I will consider it.”

“Consider it fast. Jon’s set to leave soon. Even in Winter, a northerner considers King’s Landing too warm for his blood. He’s been asking to leave for a week now.”

Daenery also knew that was true. She kept finding excuses for him to stay, but she was running out of time. She wasn’t sure why she wanted him to stay. He was her Warden of the North. She should have let him go north once her rule stabilized in her new capital, but she wasn’t ready to let Jon go. They had fought together for over a year now, and despite the fact she was surrounded by advisors, Jon was the only who really understood the weight of the crown and the great burden of leadership. She didn’t want him to go just yet.

Still, she wasn’t sure she wanted to marry him. She had always married for politics and it had never bothered her before. That’s what marriage was for, if you wanted love, you discretely took a lover. That was her problem with marrying Jon, she liked him. She enjoyed spending time with him.

There was one night she remembered, where only she and him were still up after a battle, sitting at a campfire. He looked so handsome with the firelight dancing across his face. She asked to join him and they spoke of their plans for the next day.

Then she shivered and Jon offered for her to join him under his furs, so she cuddled up to him. He smelt of leather and firewood and polish for his sword. Daenerys had closed her eyes to enjoy the smell of him, until his words interrupted her. “Your grace, if you are feeling tired, perhaps it would be best if you retired to your tent.”

Daenerys had sat up. She hadn’t been tired at all. In fact, she had been thinking about what her and Jon might get up to in her tent as two not tired individuals. But his words cooled her lust and she nodded. “Yes, I think you may be right, Lord Snow.” She stood and bid him good night.

She had many memories like that one. They helped her keep Jon Snow at arm’s length, which was for the best. She had been so close to falling for him on Dragonstone. He was an easy man to love, with his bravery, his good looks, and his determination. She might not love him, but she knew he would be easy to fall for.

And Jon Snow didn’t feel the same way about her. He had seen to it that nothing had ever happened between them. Therefore, it would be political to him. It didn’t bother Daenerys to be in a political marriage, but she didn’t want to be in half of one. She didn’t want to love a husband who only saw her as a means to an end.

She took another drink as she considered her options. “Are you really worried that Jon Snow will kill me to get the throne for himself?”

“Not him so much, but some of those northern lords are wily. They might kill you to put him on the throne. Many would welcome such a thing.”

Daenerys licked her lips. She knew Tyrion was telling the truth. Many would prefer the northern warrior king to the foreign invader. She remembered Tyrion’s words from what felt like ages ago, when he’d guessed that Jon Snow was in love with her. She wondered if he still thought that. “What do you think of Jon Snow?”

“I’ve told you, I like the man personally. Hard to hate someone who helped destroy the Night King.”

“I mean as a husband.”

“I don’t think he could handle me in the bedroom.”

Daenerys chuckled. “For me. We are both dragons, it might work. And you’re right, it would be easier to watch him if nothing else, make sure he doesn’t resume his position as King in the North. But I thought you wanted me to keep myself marriageable for possible alliances later?”

“You could take a second husband. Aegon had two wives.”

“That’s not legal in Westeros.”

“Since when do the rules apply to Targaryens?”

Daenerys looked at the red liquid still in her glass, watched it splash from one side to the next. Then she asked the question she actually wanted answered, “He doesn’t love me. He may refuse to marry me.”

Tyrion snorted. “If you say so, your grace. But you are a queen and he a loyal subject. He’ll marry you if you ask.”

Daenerys considered it for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

Jon didn’t know why he was here. In King’s Landing or about to see the queen. He should have stayed in Winterfell, but Daenerys had asked him to come down and be on her small council until she settled in. He’d agreed, for reasons he didn’t even understand, and while he had no official title (though Lord of War had been suggested, which he didn’t like), she still listened to him and his advice.

Now he was being summoned and the messenger hadn’t known why.

He wondered if they’d finally come up with an official position for him. He decided on his walk to the throne room that he didn’t want it. He wasn’t sure how one said no to a queen, but he would have to find a way. He missed his home. He missed his family.

But then what would he do in Winterfell? He was Warden, but he had no real desire for the position. Honestly, he just wanted to rest for a few years. He was tired. But there was no one else. Sansa was gone. Bran was the Three-Eyed Raven. And Arya had taken off with Gendry to see more of the world. He was the only Stark left.

And he wasn’t even a Stark.

He pushed his thoughts aside as he entered the throne room. He looked up, expecting to see Daenerys on the throne, acting in the role of queen, but she was instead looking out a window. She was so lovely, Jon thought before suppressing it. There was no room for that. She had rejected him on that boat, and as constantly tempted as he was to act on his attraction to her, he could not. She was a queen and he was far beneath her. No matter who his parents had been.

Jon took a breath and walked over to her. He kept his steps silent and so startled her when he said, “You asked to see me, your grace?”

She shuddered then turned to look at him, her wide violet eyes softening at the sight of him. Jon felt his heart jump, but refused to acknowledge it. Daenerys took a few steps back from him. “Yes, I needed to speak with you about something, Lord Stark.”

Jon nearly sighed. He had been Jon to her during the war. She had insisted on changing his Snow to Stark when she made him Warden. Then she had wanted to call him a Targaryen when they learned the truth of his parentage, but he’d refused. He didn’t want the damned throne. His brief time as King in the North had shown him the weight of power and he wasn’t eager to take it up again.

He stood, letting her say what she wanted, but she hesitated. Then she said, “Lord Stark, I want you to marry me.”

“What?” Jon wasn’t sure he’d ever been this surprised.

“Will you marry me?” Daenerys didn’t look like a queen for half a second, instead she looked like a girl fearful of rejection.

Jon considered for a moment. He had never thought to marry; dreamed of it, hoped for it, but he never actually thought it would happen. For it to happen with a queen was madness. For it to happen with this queen, a dream. He was sorely tempted.

He’d always been attracted to her, since that first time he stepped into the Dragonstone throne room. He’d even been brave enough to make a pass at her once, but she had shut it down before it even began, running from the room to “give him rest.” He understood and respected her wishes, never presuming again. He tried to find words, “I...I’m not sure what honor…” He stopped, took a deep breath and tried to compose a coherent thought. His mind reached out for an excuse and he latched onto the only one he could think of, “What of our shared blood?”

Daenerys dismissed it with a wave of a hand. “We’re Targaryens. It’s a family tradition in our bloodlines. Besides, Drogon will outlive me. Someone will need to control him when I’m gone. I would prefer to leave my child to someone with more than trace amounts of dragon blood.”

Jon remembered comforting his queen when her other dragon Rhaegal died bringing his undead brother down. She had cried about losing her child and mentioned how she would never have another. She had confessed about her cursed womb. Jon hated to bring it up now, as it had been confessed in confidence, but they were alone in the throne room. He whispered, “I thought you couldn’t have children due to a witch’s curse.”

“I thought you were the one who didn’t believe in such curses,” she challenged.

Jon had to concede that. He hadn’t believed it then and he still didn’t trust the word of a witch. He looked down. Could he do this? Could he marry the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? He didn’t want the power, didn’t want to live in King’s Landing. Jon glanced at Daenerys. But gods help him, he did want her. He’d loved her since she’d rescued him beyond the wall. He’d fallen even harder during the War for the Dawn, but he’d kept his feelings to himself. Lost Targaryen or not, he was no match for her. She was beyond his reach.

Yet, here she was, within his grasp, offering him what he wanted most.

He nodded his head, just barely, and answered softly, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

 

* * *

 

Daenerys had been holding her breath, but at his acceptance, she breathed once more. She nodded and said, “You are a Stark though any children…” Daenerys paused but then pressed on. “...any children of our union would bare the name Targaryen. Though I wouldn’t count on them.” She cut herself off abruptly, the pain too much for the moment.

Jon’s face was inscrutable. “You honor me, my queen.” Daenerys waited for more, but their appeared to be none.

She let out a harsh breath. “We were going to make it a big celebration. The common people need something happy after these dark times. I was planning to invite some envoys from Essos. I’m curious how my other lands are doing now.” She thought of Dragon’s Bay, how she’d destabilized it and then rebuilt it. She sometimes worried that she’d left too soon. That she’d left too much undone.

But all the news had been good from Essos. The council appeared to be ruling well and the cities were flourishing once more. Still, Daenerys thought of the country that had been her land for most of her life, though it had never felt like home.

Though Westeros didn’t quite feel like home either. It felt closer to what she imagined home to feel like. Every now and again she felt that familiar pull, that almost forgotten memory of a home. She would stay and plant roots and grow trees and sooner or later it would feel like home.

She was almost certain of that.

Jon was still looking at her. She felt mildly embarrassed, getting too caught up in her thoughts. “Were you waiting to be dismissed, Lord Sn…” Daenery stopped herself, remembering the royal proclamation she’d given him. Too long she’d known him as commander of her united forces. “Lord Stark.”

Jon’s face still told her nothing of what he thought of the upcoming union. It tortured her. Did he only accept because he felt he had to? Surely by now, he understood she wouldn’t force the marriage. She knew what it was to be forced into a marriage and wouldn’t do it to another.

He stepped forward and asked, “My home is in the North, your grace. I must go back and settle things there before...before we wed.”

Daenerys tried to ignore the pain of such a statement. Was that the future he pictured for them? Would he would stay in Winterfell while she ruled in King’s Landing? “Yes, well, do what you must, Lord Stark.”

He gave her a short bow and left the room. Daenerys looked back out the window and let the tears gather at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away before she could begin crying, refusing to show any emotion. This was a political marriage and she would treat it as such.

 

* * *

 

When Jon returned to King’s Landing, it was different than last time. Then he’d known he would only be staying temporarily, now...now who knew when he’d leave? The city was obviously excited with the upcoming wedding and Jon knew from the messages he’d received that the realm was sparing no expense for the celebration.

Jon felt uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving as a result. All of the lords and ladies had sent congratulations to him. It was unnerving to receive messages of gladness at his marriage from people who he hadn’t been allowed to dine with in his youth.

Still, Samwell was coming as well as Arya, so Jon was at least looking forward to seeing his friend and sister again. He’d tried to get Bran to come with them, but the Three-Eyed Raven had taken over his little brother completely, and Jon had left him under the weirtree that Bran never separated from now.

Jon was still struggling with who to name Warden in the North in his stead and hoped Tyrion already had a solution planned. He knew Tyrion had already told the queen to let Jon keep his title. He just needed someone to be acting Warden for when he was away. But there was still a lot of mistrust between the northern lords and ladies. The years of war had taken tolls on every family and Jon wasn’t sure who he could trust.

His first instinct was to name Meera Reed, as she’d shown herself a capable leader and fighter as well as he trusted her completely with his brother. But he hesitated to name a woman, as he didn’t want other lords to take it for weakness. He thought about naming her father instead, but he wasn’t sure how well he could trust the man. His loyalty to Ned Stark and his mother had been absolute as he’d kept Jon’s parentage a secret, but the man gave Jon an uneasy feeling.

He really wanted to name Arya, but she had no interest in ruling and he knew trying to force her into a role she wasn’t suited for would be a losing battle. Ned and Catelyn Stark had attempted to make Arya into a lady all of her life, but it had never worked. Besides, Jon knew his sister would be more likely to be Lady of Storm's End with as much time as she was spending with the newly minted Lord Gendry Baratheon.

Jon handed his horse to one of the Red Keep’s stable men and walked into the castle that might now be his home. Before stepping in, he took one deep breath. He wouldn’t walk out again an unmarried man. Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell, would be King Consort in three short days.

He was nearly overwhelmed by such a thing, but he pushed such things down -- he’d defeated the Night King and his army, he could handle this.

Jon walked to the throne room, deciding to look for his bride. Tyrion had kept him appraised on wedding business, but Daenerys hadn’t sent him much. Jon tried not to be hurt by her silence, but it did make him wonder about their marriage. He understood it was happening for political reasons, but they had grown close during the war -- hadn’t they? Or had that all been in his mind? His imagination? His desperate dreams?

There she was -- his bride -- sitting atop her throne. Jon remembered that today was when Daenerys listened to complaints and petitions from the common folk. He now noticed the long line extending outward. Had he been that distracted?

Jon ducked behind a pillar not wanting to bring attention to himself. He could talk with Daenerys later. Despite his years of practice going unnoticed, Tyrion called out, “Lord Stark, you made it.”

Heads turned his way and Jon looked upwards. He hated being the center of attention. He gathered himself up and walked out, like a king.

Daenerys smiled at the sight of him, which warmed Jon’s heart. He tried not to grin like a fool, but he knew his eyes probably lit up at the sight of her. He looked to Tyrion, who was seated on a specially made chair near the queen. The man smiled warmly, “How were your travels?”

“The seas were kind,” Jon answered. He glanced up to Daenerys. “Everything ready for the wedding?”

The queen wore her mask well, but Jon knew her for over a year, he could see the nerves beneath the surface. “It will make winter feel like summer,” she said.

Jon nodded. Then he panicked slightly, already out of words. Gods, he was absolute shite at small talk. He looked at the queen and his mind went blank. Then he berated himself, he was marrying this woman and he couldn’t talk to her unless they were on a battlefield.

Tyrion saved him after too much time passed in an awkward silence. “I’ve taken the liberty to preparing the same room you stayed in previously for you until the wedding. Do you remember the way?”

“Aye,” Jon agreed. With a little bow, he left the throne room, grateful to get away. He wondered again what kind of marriage he would have. He knew Daenerys’ reasons (or possibly Tyrion’s) were purely political, as she certainly wasn’t marrying him for his charms or pretty words. He knew southerners thought northerners were unsophisticated brutes and knew his manners would do nothing to dissuade them from this notion.

Gods, what was he getting himself into?


End file.
